


I'm Not Here For The Revolution

by TooTiredToJoinTheRevolution



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Anger, Awkwardness, Confessions, Drinking, Drunken Confessions, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Revolution, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:23:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8500375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TooTiredToJoinTheRevolution/pseuds/TooTiredToJoinTheRevolution
Summary: Grantaire confesses the obvious to Enjolras, who reacts unsurprisingly.





	

Whiskey felt bitter in his mouth as, for what felt like (and probably was) the millionth time, he watched Enjolras waltz around the room, talking, clearing the space and moving the chairs, God knows for what exactly. He needed to know, and Grantaire needed to tell him, because of course he wouldn’t have noticed anything. His brain was completely clouded by the french flag, damn that thing.  
He was going to have to tell him now, as they were alone. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand.  
“Enjolras” he huffed, ignoring the man’s talk of the barricade and how they were going to build it. How difficult could piling broken furniture in the street be?  
“Enjolras” he called, louder this time.  
“What is it, Grantaire?!” he finally answered, without, though, stopping doing whatever the hell he was doing. This was no good, he was going to need his full attention. Swig.  
“Enjolras!” his voice unexpectedly boomed, which finally made the man stop and look right into Grantaire’s eyes with a maddening stare. He gulped, tasting the whiskey.  
His eyes were so full of passion, and Grantaire, for a second, imagined that that was the passion he felt for him. Seconds were ticking away and Enjolras’s patience was going to run out. If he even had any. Swig.  
“I’m not here for the Revolution.”  
The glazed expression on Enjolras’s face indicated that he had not understood where he was going with this. He sighed heavily. Swig.  
“Enjolras, I’m not here for the Revolution. I’m here for you.” Grantaire said slowly and clearly, not wanting to repeat himself. Enjolras, surprisingly, was now completely focused on him, his mouth open like a fish and his head tilted in confusion. He looked fucking ridiculous. Grantaire felt like punching him. So much for the face of the Revolution. Swig.  
“Fuck…” he sighed. “I don’t care about all this. I’m fighting this war to be by your side.”  
Enjolras’s handsome features were distorted into an idiotic stare, eyes bulging, mouth so wide one could see the back of his throat. Even looking at him was unbearable, so Grantaire broke eye contact and looked down. Now Enjolras was trying to say something, uncharacteristically spluttering and stumbling on his own words.  
Finally, he forcibly blurted out a weak “Why…?”  
Grantaire rolled his eyes and frowned angrily at the man standing across the small room.  
“Are you really going to make me say it again? I’m here because of you.”  
How was it possible for someone to hold a face for this long? Grantaire took another huge swig from the bottle, emptying it. He was drunk. No surprise there. He was also angry. At himself, at Enjolras and at the fucking Revolution.  
The dumbstruck man had finally closed that wonderful mouth of his. He opened it again, but this time to speak.  
“B-but you’re… you can’t mean-“ Grantaire interrupted, not being able to stand him anymore.  
“No Enjolras. I’m doing this for you. It’s all for you, you fucking idiot.” The alcohol was taking control of his words. He saw the wheels in his brain move as Enjolras valued his options. He was too proud to run, and too reckless to stay silent.  
“I don’t know what to say.”  
“Don’t say anything.” Grantaire bitterly looked at the empty bottle in his hand and dropped it on the wooden floor. It rolled slowly and stopped by the wall. He put his face in his hands as he felt his eyes welling up. He had lost to a lady far more appealing to Enjolras than him. He had lost to France. Vìve la France.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry for this. I have a thing for canon Grantaire and have quite a few unrequited love one shots on my computer. 
> 
> Tragic, I know, but so realistic it hurts. What can I say, I'm a masochist. Hope u like, i swear i know how to write longer stuff. 
> 
> <3


End file.
